Weakness
by codeine
Summary: i have a laptop for now! :D
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

It's raining hard, lightning streaking and thunder rumbling.

Chas walks the cold, grimy streets, alone, soaked, freezing, and therefore, understandably upset. There's a pack of cigarettes in his jacket pocket beside a damp, crumpled handful of bills that John sent for Chas' licorice, but the Super Market is closed and the gas station's out of Twizzlers.

"Shit," he mutters, kicking a rock.

He wanders down the street aimlessly. There's no reason to hurry home. Nothing to do there, anyway.

When Chas looks up, he's standing in front of a church; its doors are open wide, and a soft light is spilling onto the stairs. Involuntarily, he ascends the stone steps and goes inside.

It's eerily silent and empty, but Chas decides to stay for a minute to dry off.

He sits down in one of the pews and leans back. He's seen quite a bit of shit; he figures a little time in the Lord's house can't hurt him.

For a moment, all is still and Chas smiles as his anger turns to happiness.

But it soon turns to blind fear when Balthazar sits down beside him.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

When Chas scoots away, Balthazar smiles and lets him.

"What are you doing here?" the boy demands.

Balthazar sighs. "Chas, would you like to know why John never lets you help?"

What Chas would like very much is to make a sarcastic comment, but he holds back because he _does_ want to know.

"Because the demon would attack you first," Balthazar tells him.

"Why?" Chas asks, in spite of himself.

"Because _everyone_, even a full-fledged demon can see that you, Chas Kramer, _you_ are John Constantine's biggest weakness."

Chas shakes his head. "No, I'm not."

"Yes, oh, yes, you are, my dear boy. He loves you, and that means I can hurt _him_ by hurting _you_."

Chas frowns. "But you can't hurt me here. We're in a church."

Balthazar laughs. "I can hurt you anywhere I please, Chas. I'm a half-breed. Only demons have restrictions, you should know _that_, bookworm."

Chas gets up out of the pew and turns to leave, but Balthazar appears in his path.

"Only demons have restrictions, love," he repeats and pushes Chas back down into the pew.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Gabriel comes to a dead stop in the air above the church.

Crying and screams of pain echo in the streets.

The angel frowns, flies down to the stairs and steps inside.

At the front of the church, on the stand, beneath a wrought-iron cross, a half-breed demon is molesting a young boy.

Gabriel looks closely.

It's Chas Kramer, John Constantine's "apprentice."

God says he's a special case, that all the bad stuff he's seen and said and done is canceled out by his unconditional devotion to John.

He's an innocent.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

When John notices Gabriel knocking at his window, he acts on his first instinct and sends his half-empty whiskey bottle shattering through the glass.

The angel dodges it and puts its head through the new hole.

"Constantine, you damned fool! I'm not here to bother you; I'm returning something of yours."

John goes to the window and slides it open, and it is then that he sees Chas, limp, bleeding and barely conscious in the angel's arms. He takes the boy from Gabriel and holds him close.

"What the hell did you do to him?" John shouts.

"Saved his life,' Gabriel spat and disappeared.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

As soon as Chas' eyes open, tears begin to leak out. He's lying in John's fluffy bed wearing John's t-shirt and lounge pants, which, under any other circumstances would be nice, but he's in excruciating pain and he can already feel blood soaking into the fabric.

He gets up with a struggle and goes to the bedroom door.

He makes it all the way across the living room; he's just barely inside the kitchen door when he collapses.

"Ow," he moans.

John kneels down beside him, places a firm hand on his chest.

"Chas," he says. "Chas, look at me."

The boy tries, he really does, but even with John's warm hands now holding his face, Chas can feel himself growing cold.

"Chas, look at me. _Please_," John begs.

"Get away from me, John," he growls, but he doesn't know why, because he certainly doesn't mean it.

"Chas, Chas... Oh God, Chas this can't be happening..."

What does he mean? Chas wonders wildly. What's happening?

But then it all makes sense.

John's getting out his vial of Holy Water.


	6. Chapter 6

John straddles him, kneeling down hard on Chas' fragile arms to stop their flailing.

Twisting his fingers in Chas' curly hair, he jerks his head back and begins to chant.

The boy shrinks beneath him, now crying. A thin line of blood leaks from pink lips.

John grits his teeth and continues chanting, Holy Water wet fingers drawing a cross on the pale skin of Chas' neck.

Steam rises from hissing skin. It's burning him.

Chas shrieks and John cringes.

And then, all of a sudden, Chas stops fighting and goes limp.

"Chas?" John drops the vial, lifts the boy halfway off the floor by his shoulders, and shakes him a little. "Chas?"

Chas gags, spewing bright red blood all over the front of John's clean white shirt.

"Sorry," the boy apologizes weakly, wiping his chin.

John sighs in relief. "Are you okay?"

Chas smiles. "'M fine, John," he reports, and then passes out, with warm blood still trickling from between his lips.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

John leans into the bathroom. "Hey, Chas, d'you want Chinese take out or delivery pizza?"

Chas stops scrubbing, thinks for a minute. "Pizza," he decides.

When he reaches for the bottle of shampoo on the counter, he winces and pulls his arm back, a stream of profanity hissing through his teeth.

"Chas, what's wrong?" John asks, concerned.

"Well, whaddya think?" Chas says loudly. "You _crushed_ my arms, John."

John eyes the bruises.

"It's not my fault your skin is made out of paper," John defends himself.

"John, this has nothing to do with my skin! It's your damn kneecaps, made out of steel or something..."

John smirks. "D'you want some help?"

"I can do it myself," Chas replies confidently, holding out his hand for the bottle.

"That doesn't answer my question," John points out.

Chas sighs. "Fine," he gives in.

John pulls off his t-shirt and kneels down beside the tub.

"Oh, God, John! Put that back on! My eyes!" Chas teases.

John dips his fingers in the water and flicks it at Chas' face.

Chas squeals, splashes back.

John looks down at the water all over himself and the floor.

"And _that's_ why I took off my shirt," he explains.

Chas laughs at him.

"Alright, you have to hold still now," John commands.

Chas does as he's told.

John squeezes the shampoo bottle and yellowish-white gel oozes out into Chas' curls. It smells like coconut and pineapple; John would never admit it, but he likes it.

"Ooooh!" Chas squirms. "That's cold!"

John slides his fingers in it and as he rubs it in, a shiver of longing streaks up his spine.

The soap turns to foam as he massages Chas' scalp, and if he were not behind him, he could see the boys' eyelids slowly flutter shut with pleasure.

John breathes hard.

He is enjoying this altogether too much.

Warm, white bubbles cover his hands and dark brown curls slip through his fingers.

Chas moans softly beneath him, pressing into his touch.

"Lean back." John's voice is deep, husky, and the words he speaks gently ghost across the boy's _toned, wet, naked _chest.

Chas couldn't disobey if he tried.

With one hand, John rinses the shampoo from Chas' hair and with the other, holds his _smooth, warm, creamy pale_ neck up out of the water.

When he's finished, Chas sits up.

John gets to his feet.

The moment has passed.

"Chas?" John's breathless.

"Yes, John?" Chas asks expectantly.

"I'll, uh... I'll be in the kitchen," John replies nervously and backs out of the bathroom.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Nine **

John looks across the table.

Chas is asleep, his cheek pressed against the wood.

John smiles.

Shaking his head, he goes around to the other side of the table and carefully lifts the boy out of his chair and into his ready arms.

Chas wakes up as soon as he is laid down on John's bed.

John's already leaving but Chas grabs his hand.

"Wait… Don't go," he begs.

"Let go of me," John commands because that's what assholes are supposed to do, but he hopes Chas doesn't obey.

The boy only holds tighter. "Please." He's desperate. "_Please_, John. Don't go; you can't go. Stay here, John. I'm scared. You can't leave me here alone…" He's crying again.

John softens. "Alright, kid. Quit your howling and scoot over."

Chas moves to make room for John.

John sits down on the edge of the bed.

"Are you ready to tell me what happened?" he asks after a moment.

Chas chews on his lip.

"It was… it was Balthazar, John. I was, I was walking home from the gas station with-with your cigarettes, and on the way, I… I went into a church, and then he, he came and he said, he said that if he hurt me, it would hurt you and, and…" Chas' voice cracks. When he begins to speak again, the tone of his voice has changed. He's not sad, now, he's angry. "Balthazar, that bastard… He raped me, John. He fucking raped me. And I screamed like a little girl."

John is livid. Oh, Balthazar is gonna-

"It hurt. It hurt so bad…" Chas grinds his teeth. "He _raped_ me, John! He banged the fucking _sense_ out of me and all I did was cry? Laid there on the floor and cried like a goddamn baby." Chas swallows. He turns and looks John in the eye. "And I think I liked it, too," he admits in a whisper, tears filling up his round brown eyes and spilling down his soft cheeks.

John reaches out and gently wipes away the tears with his thumb. He shakes his head. "No, you didn't."

"But, but, I was- I started getting…" Chas hesitates, ashamed. John has to strain to hear the words. "I got, hard."

John gets up off the bed, storms to the window.

"John, no! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I- I- Oh God, it's so disgusting… John, it's my fault, I-" he whimpers into the pillow.

John spins on his heel. "SHUT UP!" he screams. "THAT'S NOT TRUE!" He breathes hard, stares at the fear in the young boys' deep brown eyes, knows that he caused it, and almost finds tears in his own. He shakes his head, holds them back. "None of this is your fault, Chas," he reassures. "And you're _not _disgusting…" John grins. "Except last week when you ate spaghetti with your face."

Chas' lips curve up into a small smile, and John is pretty sure it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

John is afraid.

He's fallen asleep in Hell.

He's laughed in the Devil's face.

He bullshits with half-breeds and kicks demon ass every day.

And yet he has fear now, and it's caused by an innocent, seventeen year old boy.

John looks across the room at the still form sprawled on his bed.

It's not that Chas scares him.

John fears the way he feels about the kid.

John's fond of him.

John cares about him.

Loves him?

It's Constantine, John Constantine, asshole.

But maybe, just maybe… He _does_ have a heart.

Maybe that's what he feels aching when he sees the boy in pain.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

John wakes up in a sweat.

Searching the bed beside him, he finds that Chas is gone.

He gets up, goes to the bathroom, splashes water on his face.

When he goes into the living room, he looks at the couch and expects to see the kid sleeping there as usual.

But it's empty.

Hanging off the side is Chas's light green blanket and on the floor beside it is his fluffy white pillow.

Blood is everywhere: in large, crimson stains on the pillow and the blanket, in dried smears on the couch cushions and floor.

John's heart races.

He rushes to the kitchen, flings open the door and-

Chas is sitting at the table, drinking whiskey from the bottle and smoking two cigarettes side by side.

He smiles when he sees John.

John's voice comes in a breathless rush. "Chas, kid, there's blood everywh-" He stops when he sees how much alcohol and nicotine the boy is ingesting. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he yells.

Chas picks up the bottle, salutes him with it and takes a long swig.

"Chas, you-" John splutters.

Chas cuts him off with, "I've been waiting for you."

"Yeah, well, if you've been waiting so long, why didn't you make breakfast?" John asks, putting a pan on the stove.

"I'm sorry, John. I don't know how."

John turns halfway. "Alright, you've had your fun. Now put down that bottle and take those death sticks out of your mouth, kid. They're not good for you."

Chas glares, pushing the cigarettes down into the glass bottle.

There's an awkward pause.

"You never did explain all the blood," John says slowly, the stove making a soft _click_ when he turns it on.

"You know, John, that kid of yours is one hell of a fighter."

John turns. "What?"

"Chas," Chas states. "He put up quite a fight. It should please you to know that he called for you."

John frowns. "Chas, what are you-"

"I'm afraid something happened inside him when we were fighting. He started coughing up blood. Bright red and foamy. So much blood… His pain gave me a chance to take control of his body," Chas says, softly.

"What are you talking about?" John demands.

"It's a nice body, so clean and soft and new," Chas goes on, ignoring John entirely. "It was incredible, entering a virgin."

John grabs his throat and slams him into the wall. "Shut the _fuck_ up."

"Careful, John. You're hurting him."

John releases his grip. _This is not Chas_, he tells himself, but his eyes tell him differently.

Chas blinks owlishly in front of him, eyes wide and innocent.

John punches his lovely jaw and throws his small body to the floor like a rag doll.

"What do you want?" he growls.

Chas's mouth curls up, but the smile isn't right. It's too perfect. It's missing that quirk.

It's so fake, John kicks it.

Hard.

"What are you doing here? Why were you drinking my whiskey? Why were you smoking my cigarettes? If you want to hurt me, then HURT _ME_!"

"I _am_ hurting you, John. I'm tainting his innocence. That's what I'm here for: to ruin the one thing you actually care about, so you can sit with his bruised and broken body and _cry_, John. Cry like you've never cried before, because it will be your fault. All your fault…"

John grinds his teeth. "Get out. Get out of him. I can send you back to hell." He holds out a set of keys. "Pick your poison," he says, jangling them.

"Oh, but you wouldn't use those, Johnny. You wouldn't burn his perfect skin. You wouldn't scar his beautiful body." Chas stands. "Because he _is _beautiful, isn't he, John." It's not a question; it's a statement of fact.

John swallows.

"So perfect… You want him, don't you, John?"

"Get out of here," John growls.

Chas continues, ignoring him. "His soft, pink lips touching yours, his small hands clutching your hair, his wet tongue sliding into your mouth…"

John takes a breath, feeling his throat tighten and his heart ache with longing.

"Would you like to taste him?" Chas asks, leaning in close, smelling like Ivory soap and licorice and Axe and _innocence._

John grabs him by the shoulders and kisses him firmly, loves the feel of his warm body next to him, loves the tickle of Chas's breath on his skin.

He pulls the boy closer, presses his tongue into a hot mouth.

There is a metallic taste of blood and John can feel lips smiling against his own.

That smile…

John pulls away.

_This is __not__ Chas._

This is not his apprentice.

This is a demon, a demon who has stolen an awkwardly-beautiful body and uses its lips both to smile and kiss too perfectly.

John pulls the frying pan off the stove.

"The Devil didn't send you here to please me," he says, and slams the pan into Chas's head.

The boy crumples into a heap on the kitchen floor.

-


	11. Chapter 11

"Oh, Jesus Christ… My head," Chas moans. "Why the _fuck_ did you do that, John?"

John rolls his eyes, sitting down in his armchair with a bottle of whiskey to dull his _own_ headache.

"You were possessed by a demon, Chas," he states for the thousandth time. "I didn't have many options."

"Well, couldn't you have thought of one that didn't involve giving me permanent brain damage?" Chas whines, holding the ice pack to his throbbing head. "I could be a fucking vegetable right now, you know!"

"Believe me, I'm not that lucky," John mutters.

Chas frowns, looks hurt.

"You don't mean that," he tries.

"No," John admits softly, rubbing his face.

Chas looks over at him, silent for a moment, hand holding the Freezie-Pack to the side of his curly head.

"It was really weird, John," he says, and he doesn't have to clarify what they're talking about.

"I'm sure it was," John agrees, taking a long drink.

"I was in this tiny dark room and there was no door," the kid continues quietly, remembering. "I was scared."

John sighs.

"Well, you're out now," he reminds. "Nothing to be afraid of out here."

Chas chuckles, pink lips turning up into an innocent smile.

"Just you, John," he jokes.

John scoffs.

"Just me," he agrees.

There's a moment of beautiful silence.

"Hey, what did my body do while I was gone?" Chas asks.

John groans.

"I mean, was it creepy?" the kid continues. "Did I attack you?"

John considers the question. Technically, yes.

"You drank my whiskey and smoked my cigarettes," he doesn't quite answer, sounding irritated.

Chas laughs out loud.

"Really?" he asks.

"Yes," John replies without feeling.

Chas laughs harder, whole body shaking, eyes watering. He drops his ice pack in his mirth.

John can't help himself. A tiny fraction of a smile breaks out on his face.

He has his Chas back.

"I wish I'd been there!" Chas chuckles, wiping his eyes. "I wish I coulda seen your face!"

John rolls his eyes.

"You want a matching bruise on the other side of your head?" he asks calmly.

Chas chokes back more laughter, picking up his ice off the floor and calming down.

"John?" he inquires softly, after a moment.

John braces himself for more foolishness.

"Thank you," Chas says. "For… for saving me."

John blinks. Swallows. Hesitates.

"You're welcome."


End file.
